


Electric Chapel

by mannybothans



Series: Shameless Smut Shorts [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A tiny bit of fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Lyrics as dialogue, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Rekindled Relationship, Song fic, angel smut, consent is fucking sexy, gaga is life okay, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 16:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: "Follow me / I need something sacred from you / Together we’ll both find a way / To make a pure love work in a dirty way" - Lady Gaga





	Electric Chapel

**Author's Note:**

> fic requested by my spouse. and i quote, "so when you gonna write some castiel smut?!!?!" so here it is, inspired by Gaga's "Electric Chapel."

Castiel’s honed in on your location and he feels more than a little awkward. He’s followed you, followed your scent, and is standing in the middle of a crowd of writhing bodies lit by pulsing neon lights. You’re only a couple feet away and his eyes are trained on you, watching and collecting visual information. Your blood, pure and clean, pulses through your veins as your arms wave above your head and your head swings back and forth in time with your hips.

His breath catches in his throat as your eyes finally meet his. You pull away from the mass of entangling, dancing bodies, and push past him. Your hand lightly grips his crooked tie in a silent _follow me_ gesture before letting go and hoping he’s got the hint.

Castiel, always questioning his moral compass, hesitates before going after you. You wind your way through the grinding, pulsing crowd of bodies and up the stairs. The music throbs and thrums through the metal steps under your feet, so it’s impossible to tell if he’s still following you – but you know. Your eyes never stray from looking directly ahead, not even when you stride past a cubicle where flashing lights and the heady scent of champagne assault your senses.

But Castiel looks. His eyes dart to the side as his lips part and his tongue slips out of his mouth however briefly. He pauses, not meaning to gape, but human sexuality is just so confusing sometimes. _Why is she pouring champagne all over her buttocks?_ he hears himself asking nobody in particular. _Does she like it?_ Just then, someone kneels down behind the woman with the champagne and starts licking her clean and Castiel’s face heats up and he moves forward again, remembering that he came here for a reason: you.

He catches sight of the back of your head and pushes onward; you’ve gained distance from him, despite him only pausing to watch for a second. A door opens and you walk into a much darker room and he has no choice but to follow you.

When he enters the room, you’re waiting for him. He speaks your name, the shortened form, like how Dean calls him _Cas_. His voice is the same rough, gravelly, serious that it always is. Maybe a slight hint of confusion mixed in – which makes him all the more alluring. He’s sought you out, that much is obvious, but what he wants is anybody’s guess. You expect him to announce that Sam and Dean are looking for you, that they need your help deciphering some long-lost text, or something equally dull. You have no interest in Sam or Dean or helping them – not at the moment, anyway. But you know, deep down, if _Cas_ asks, you’ll bend to his request.

The heat of the bodies that had surrounded you, your dancing, and the obvious sexual acts all happening on your way in here have your body humming with desire. Castiel was always so _aloof_ , so _holy_ , almost _foolish_ , that you never saw a way in.

Until now.

Now, he was here. Alone. With you. And though his eyes darted around and his tongue wet his lips nervously, you could kind of _feel_ him.

“Where have you been?” He asks.

“Are you looking for a confession?” You ask in kind, stepping towards him. “Because I have nothing to confess.” Castiel is frozen as you circle him and just the _scent_ of him is intoxicating. He smells clean and warm, like ozone before a thunderstorm or hot pavement on a summer day, sizzling with cold rain.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Castiel replies, his lips turning down ever so slightly at the corners.

When you stand in front of him again, his blue eyes are steely and focused on you. A shudder runs up your spine and you drop to your knees in front of him. “I can pray for my sins, though,” you suggest, looking up at him through your lashes.

Castiel lurches forward, as if to grab you and haul you to your feet, but he stops short of putting hands on you. A lump forms in your throat – sure, he’s no longer human and feels no sexual desire, hunger, or thirst anymore, but there was that amount of time where he was. During that time, you were all too happy to help him feel more human and satisfy those _needs_. But once his Grace had been found, he didn’t see you that way, anymore. So, you distanced yourself and he seemed content with that distance.

But you weren’t. You longed for him, for his touch, for his lips on your skin, and his muscles under your hands. To be around him and not able to be with him was torture.

Hesitantly, your hands go to his thighs and slide up to his hips where you know, under those slacks, are the chiseled muscles of his vessel. The v-shape above his hips that used to guide your mouth is just a memory at this point but _oh_ , how you wish to see him again. _All of him_. Castiel makes no move to stop you when your fingertips curl into the waistband of his trousers. Your heart starts beating faster, thudding in your chest, when he shrugs out of his overcoat. Rarely do you ever see him in just Jimmy Novak’s preaching suit – a dark, navy blue that offsets his ice blue eyes even more. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Will you help me pray for my sins?” You ask, your voice hoarse with want already.

Castiel’s eyes wander up and you follow his gaze, landing on a lone disco ball, silent and motionless above you. The dim lights in the room do nothing for it, except make it glimmer faintly, just enough so the casual observer knows it’s there. When he drops his gaze, it’s directly to you, and you wonder what’s going through his mind.

“I was human for a long time, Y/N,” he rasps. “I haven’t forgotten,” he trails off. A long, tense pause follows and you’re about to stand up when he gently puts a hand on your head. “I will absolve you of your burden of sins.”

A rush of heat gathers between your legs and you grip the waistband of his slacks tighter. His hand moves from your head to his belt and he undoes it, then opens his trousers and lets them drop to his ankles. He really hasn’t forgotten.

You watch his face carefully, trying to see if there’s any hesitation or second-guessing of himself. He nods at you and you pull his fitted boxer-briefs down, not even mildly disappointed to find his cock only half-hard. Almost panting with the need to feel him in your mouth, you wait once more. It’s imperative that he approves every step of the way. He gives his approval this time by placing his hand on your head again and pulls you towards him. You close your eyes as his hips twitch towards you and your mouth opens, ready for him. The velvety smoothness of his cock slides in, heavy on your tongue, and oh, so familiarly salty.

You exhale through your nose as he pushes himself in and he groans once he’s filled the wet warmth of your mouth. The sound of it makes your cunt throb.

“Y/N,” he sighs. “That’s good. That’s really, really good.”

You hum in delight and his grip on your head tightens in response. He feels like home, feels like safety, feels like _love;_ you simply _need_ him. When you’re together, it feels almost sacred. Your tongue works him over as you hollow your cheeks, working the base of his cock with one hand.

All too soon, Castiel pulls his cock out of your mouth with a divine _pop_. You absently wipe your lips and open your eyes. When you can focus them again, he’s moved the two of you across the room and has you pressed against the wall, his strong hands pinning your wrists at the level of your eyes. Your head is swimming with lust and your body rolls against his to feel every inch of his hardness against you.

“Cas,” you whisper, seeking his truth in his eyes. It’s there – poorly concealed – and you tilt your head towards him, just needing to feel his lips against yours for confirmation.

He hesitates.

Your heart falls into your stomach; you’ve gone too far.

Then his mouth is on yours and his tongue is already past your lips and he’s swallowing your desperate whimpers greedily. His kiss is hard, sublime, and powerful and when he pulls away, you choke back a sob.

“Y/N,” he says and you have no choice but to look into his eyes again. “Where have you been?” It’s the second time he’s asked that question and you don’t know how to answer. How do you tell the man you love that you couldn’t stand being around him anymore? That if you couldn’t have him, you didn’t even want to be in the same vicinity as him. That you couldn’t fathom how to keep him and his _holiness_ – as if that were something to be _kept_. “I’ve missed you,” he growls out before his mouth slants over yours again. The two of you fit together like the last pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and it almost _hurts_ because it feels so good, so complete.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” you manage when he lets you breathe.

“For what?” He asks, the concern in his eyes almost making them glow.

You can’t answer and he doesn’t press. He knows. His grip lets up on your wrists and he starts undressing you and you’re so overwhelmed by how potent he is, how strong he is, that you could honestly just cry. A silent tear slips down your face when he tugs your pants off your hips and then rips your underwear right off. The initial pass of his knuckles through your undoubtedly soaking wet sex has you biting your lip. But when he pushes two solid fingers into you, the will to bite back your cry fails and it comes out as a need-filled, pleading sob. As if driven by touch-memory alone, your hips rock into his touch and he easily brings you to that exhilarating, heavenly edge using just his fingers while his lips and tongue work on your neck and chest.

He doesn’t even let you come down before he pulls your legs up and around his hips. Castiel growls your name as his rigid cock sinks deep into your cunt and you gasp at how he fills you to perfection. You fist your hands in his white button-up just under his shoulders and hold on.

“Cas, please,” you beg as his hips begin to move. He thrusts up into you, pinning your body between his and the wall, filling you over and over again to ensure you only see stars.

A low, breathy moan escapes his lips when you clench your pelvic floor muscles. Then he starts thrusting faster, harder, breaking past that pseudo-barrier you've created again and again. Momentarily, you wonder if he’s lost his Grace again with how feverishly his hips are jerking. He’s chasing his release the way he did the first time you fucked – before you showed him how to satisfy _everyone’s_ needs.

“I’ve missed you so much, Y/N,” he pants into your ear and it makes goose bumps rise on your flesh. “For fuck’s sake, you feel so good.”

“Oh, Cas,” you moan in return, clutching him tighter. “Please, please, Castiel.”

He growls back and you cry out as he shifts you enough to hit that _singular_ spot within you.

“So good, Cas,” you breathe between sharp moans. “Fuck! Yes!”

“Wanna feel you come for me,” he states and though it’s somewhat monotone, it still sends electricity to every single nerve, making your skin grow hotter and cunt wetter. “Fuck, I miss making you come.”

 _Oh my GOD!_ You want to cry, but you keep to incoherent praising, leaving God out of this. Castiel is enough. His name is the only prayer you ever want to say for the rest of your life.

He shoves his cock deep within you and pulls back just to repeat his actions, filling you again and again and again. Your head already feels like you’ve been sucked down by an undertow and you just want to _release_ it all for him. Your hands find the back of his neck and you clench your jaw when your eyes squeeze shut in anticipation of that exquisite climax that only he can give you.

There is no begging, no pleading, no crying, no sound at all when your jaw drops and Castiel pushes you over that edge again. You plummet like an angel being expelled from Heaven, except this is blissful, not painful. He might have shouted when you initially clenched around him, but you can’t be sure. All you can feel is falling down, down, down, and if this is what it would feel like to fall into the depths of Hell, you’d willingly toss yourself into the Pit over and over again for all of eternity.

Castiel presses his forehead against yours and you realize he’s asked you a question.

“Mm?” You reply, still trying to ground yourself on this mortal plane.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He repeats.

“No, no, Castiel, not at all,” you assure him, forcing your eyes open. You lift a hand to gently cup his cheek.

“Good,” he says and licks his lips, sighing. “I was… afraid.”

A small chuckle escapes you. “Because it’s been awhile?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Oh, Cas,” you murmur, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Come back with me?”

You swallow and pull back from him a little bit so you can look directly into his eyes. He looks _hopeful_ and _eager_. Smiling, you nod and his face breaks into a grin that makes your heart feel absolutely whole once more.


End file.
